“Don’t even think about it, Whitmore. Those are mine.”
“Are they?” He pushed his plate aside and eyed them with full intent to capture.
Emily grabbed both biscuits and tried to scramble away, but she got caught up in her skirts when she tried to stand and fell against the wooden floor. Groaning to herself, she rubbed her elbow and winced. “Take them. I surrender.”
He reached out and touched her arm gently. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine. You needn’t worry about me.”
He couldn’t stop himself from caressing her elbow, trying to ease the pain. Emily closed her eyes but didn’t pull away from him, as if she needed his hands upon her. Seeing her veiled yearning only intensified the dishonorable needs rising inside him.
Stop touching her. Leave her alone.He let go of her arm and stood, trying to put more space between them.
Outside, the wind howled, whirling against the chimney flue. “If my coachman doesn’t arrive with supplies tonight, I’ll send a small staff along with everything you need, tomorrow morning.”
She shook her head, already protesting. “Whitmore, you’re not responsible for me. I won’t take any charity from you.”
“This is about your survival, not charity. Why is it so difficult for you to set aside your pride?”
“Pride is all I have left.” She rose to her feet and went to stand beside him. The warm firelight illuminated her hair, the honeyed strands gleaming. Worry creased her face, and she avoided his gaze. “I can’t repay you.”
Money wasn’t a concern of his, and the cost of providing her with food and supplies for a few months wouldn’t be a noticeable expense. “You don’t have to.”
With her standing so close, he could smell the fragrance of vanilla emanating from her skin. She held herself motionless, as though uncertain about what to do. A soft tendril of blond hair curled against her breast, and she kept her eyes averted.
Her cheeks flushed with color, and she swallowed hard. “Are you expecting me to become your mistress in exchange for the supplies?”
Her bluntness caught him unawares. The thought hadn’t entered his mind, and it irritated him that she would think that. “I’m not that mercenary. You need my help, and I intend to grant it. Nothing more.”
That wasn’t the sort of man he was. After all the years they’d known each other, surely she had to know this.
“Then why did you kiss me before?” Emily looked at him, her brown eyes searching. She drew his coat tighter around her shoulders, her expression vulnerable.
He didn’t answer. How could he answer the question when he didn’t know the answer himself? She should have been a stranger to him, a woman he hardly knew. And yet, he found the past merging with the present, blurring lines he should not have crossed.
“I apologize.” He gave a slight bow. “You should be warm enough for the night. I’ll find another place to sleep.”
She offered him his coat back, and he took it, abandoning the meager plate of food. Behind him, the door swung closed, and he left her alone.
What had come over him? There was no reason to touch Emily again, no matter what had happened between them years ago. She had her own future apart from his. Though he wanted to alleviate her hardship, he knew better than to trespass upon the boundary of their friendship.
His imagination flared with thoughts of her smooth skin, the dip of her stomach and the curve of her breasts. When he’d kissed her earlier, there had been a madness, an instinctive craving. A night such as this made it easy to fall prey to desire. Being trapped in a house, alone with a beautiful woman…it was like walking upon shifting sands.
He needed to keep as much distance as possible between Emily’s room and his own. The house was cold and dark, forcing him to don the coat once more. Hardly any furnishings remained, and when he searched the house, he discovered that none of the bedrooms had a single mattress.
At last he gave up, deciding to sleep upon a sofa he’d located earlier. A gust of cold air swept into the drawing room from the hall, and he wondered if there was a window that needed to be sealed off. Stephen buttoned his coat to ward off the freezing chill, following the source of the cold until he saw Emily standing at the back door. It was open slightly, and snowflakes were drifting into the hall.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, moving forward to close the door. But she placed herself in the door frame, blocking him.
“Come here,” she ordered. She held a lantern in her hand, and the amber glow revealed swirls of white snow. Dizzying fat flakes fell so fast he could hardly see beyond the garden. The wind slashed at his coat, but Emily didn’t seem to notice the cold. Her face was shining with a wide smile, her lips wet from the cold. “Look.”
“It’s freezing, and you’re going to make yourself ill if you remain out in this weather.”
She lifted her hood as a compromise, and dashed forward. Leaning down, she reached into the wet drift and formed a snowball.
“Don’t even think of it, Emily. We’re not children anymore.”
But she took aim and fired it at his shoulder. “What good is snow if you can’t play in it?”
